For Sure & Certain (2 page)

Eventually, though, she had to swallow.

“I graduated a term early.” She wasn’t embarrassed about how everything had gone down, not exactly. But she was weary of the trail of crumbs her decisions had left for everyone. People liked to pick up the pieces of her misery.

“But you are going to walk, with everyone else, right?”

“No, I’m not, actually.” Marigold offered a tight smile, but no other explanation. She wasn’t quite interested in getting into the dynamics of high school with a woman she didn’t know.

After an awkward pause the woman cocked her head to the side, then turned to her mother. “Eileen, she isn’t walking? Where is she going in the fall?”

The question was asked as if Marigold was incapable of answering for herself. With a resigned sigh, Marigold thought perhaps she was.

Mom swept in along with Lily, who preened herself for this sort of gossip, to answer the questions at hand. Unnoticed, the lace-gowned girl slipped away. She didn’t need to stand around listening to her mother speak in hushed tones about her
lack of direction
, about how she
had been accepted here at Jamestown, but she hadn’t sent back her paperwork
, how
she better figure it out soon or who knows what they might have to do
.

Which was the strangest threat to Marigold -- what exactly would they do?

As she walked out of the hall, a summer breeze swept through her dress, and she looked down. The dress was much sheerer than she had realized, her bra and panties quite noticeable. For a self-conscious moment she crossed her arms, wondering why her mother or sister hadn’t gently pointed this out to her. She hadn’t meant to be so exposed, but they probably thought it was intentional. They believed her to be much more calculating than she actually was.

A round of applause caused her to crane her neck towards the hall she’d just left, the echoes of her father giving a speech reverberating off the walls. His voice strong and sure, like the words he wrote. Rough and full of judgment, but somehow the people here at Jamestown thought him wise and smart and all of the things that made Marigold roll her eyes.

What use was intelligence when you had no ability to accept people who weren’t just like you?  Marigold craved a soothing voice, gentle enough to let her in, and she was wise enough to know she wouldn’t find it with her father. He flouted stories about ethics in business and being the best, but Marigold just wanted to be herself.

She walked away, down the dimly lit path of JU, paths she knew like the back of her hand. She learned to walk on this campus, sat outside her mother’s office practicing her letters, slowly learning her times table’s at a big wooden desk in the library.

At one time it had been her second home, but lately it betrayed her. It became another constricting, suffocating box, filled with expectation. Just like her prep school, like her family. Like the friends that texted, but no longer knew what to say.

Her old group of friends had summer plans that Marigold decided she didn’t want to partake in. Somehow backpacking Europe or hiking Machu Picchu or an internship in NYC didn’t hold the lure it once had. She was sick and tired of being caught. Marigold wanted to be free.

She made her way to the campus graveyard, full of secrets and mystery, but mostly quiet. In the center stood a fountain filled with coins, water bubbling over the copper and silver. She took a penny from her beaded purse, and pressed it between her thumb and forefinger, lingering under the moonlight.

She needed a wish, something. Anything.

A guy with a broad-rimmed hat and suspenders walked alone across the lawn, and caused her pause, but she didn’t keep her eyes up. She put the coin to her lip and kissed it, before throwing it in with the others. She’d have to wait to see if hers came true.

Abel

The driver pulled to a stop and looked at Abel through the rearview mirror. After the bus ride he had hailed a taxi, overwhelmed at the idea of navigating the city himself.

              “Here’s your stop, sure this is the right place?” He gave Abel, in his Amish clothes, a second look.

              “Tis right. This is Madison Hall, my new home.” Abel looked out the window smiling; he had been waiting months for this moment. Climbing out of the car he stretched his legs, cramped after the two-and-a-half hour ride.

The dorm was a large brick building, situated in the heart of campus. The street was lined with cars and people rode bikes while talking on phones. Ivy covered the walls of the four-story building, setting the stage for the ultimate college experience, even if it was for a single summer.

The taxi driver took the suitcases from the trunk, setting them on the curb. “You think there’s a place to hang your hat in that fancy place?”

              Abel handed him a few bills, then shook his hand. “If there’s no hook to hang it, I’ll put a nail in the wall myself.”

              The driver laughed, pulling away, and Abel walked to the door, not looking back.

***

The Resident Assistant sitting at the front desk checked Abel in and led him to his room on the second floor. He already knew his roommate was a guy named Lacey, from Cincinnati, per the email he’d received at the public library in Lancaster.

              “Bathrooms are on each floor, and then the dining hall is just two buildings to the left. Super easy to find,” explained Tara, the RA, pointing as she went. “And if you ever have problems with other students, someone is always on duty. In the summer it’s just the first two floors of Madison Hall, for the Summer Intensive kids, like you.”

              “How many of us are here?”

              “Usually about twenty in each of the Intensives. What’s your program?” She wore thick black eyeglasses and makeup that made her eyes shine. Abel was grateful for a warm person to ease him in.

              “Business.”

              “Oh awesome, I’m a business major myself, third year. Professor Trape runs that Intensive and he is fantastic.” She smiled, stopping in front of a metal door labeled Room 18, with a paper made sign. The names Lacey and Abel were colored in markers. “Like the sign I made you?”

“You did this?”

              “Yeah, I’m kinda like the floor mother. So if you have any issues, let me know. I’m in Room 22, so I’m close if you need anything.”

Smiling tightly, Abel tried to absorb the information. He knew it would be a lot to take in, and he was right. Everything was different, he’d never spent a night away from his house in his life, and now he was moving in here for ten weeks.

“You nervous? You look nervous,” Tara asked, patting him on the arm. “It’s going to be okay. From what I can gather, you aren’t used to the city, and your back story isn’t my business, but honest— if you need anything, ask.”

Abel knew Tara’s compassion wasn’t the norm with
Englisher’s,
at least not the ones who toured Lancaster County. Those people were nosy and wanted a sliver of Amish life to take home with them. Often these visitors bought fresh vegetables and black strap molasses, as if a few ingredients would provide them the recipe for a simple life.

Abel’s family, the Millers, didn’t come in contact much with these folks. The Millers owned a large private sheep farm, which wasn’t a contracted stop on guided tours. Still, Abel would hear from friends at church the stories of these jean-wearing folk who gawked and pointed at them.

He knew all about the time his cousin Martha, who worked at her family bakery, was asked if she’d ever worn pants by a teenage guy. Or the time his friend Joshua was given a phone number by a girl wearing heels. Joshua didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t be calling, and it wasn’t because she wasn’t hot. He didn’t own a telephone.

Tara rapped on the door, and it was opened by a short, stocky guy.

              “Hey, Tara, what’s up?” he asked.

              “This is Abel, your roommate,” she said, waving Abel closer.

He swallowed his nerves and focused on enunciating his words as clearly as possible. He’d been practicing speaking without his thick Dutch accent, but he knew it would be seen as a red flag.

“Hello,” Abel said, sticking out his hand politely.

“Hey, dog, look at you!” Lacey’s eyebrows popped up as he took Abel in. “You never answered my emails, man. I wanted to know if you minded me bringing a mini-fridge.”

Abel looked dumbfounded and didn’t answer. Tara stepped back and scratched her head as if trying to figure out how this popped-collar pseudo-gangster was going o fit with an Amish Puritan.

Abel wondered the same thing.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna leave you both to it. Orientation is tomorrow, okay?” Tara walked away patting Abel’s arm, seemingly unconvinced this arrangement was going to work.

“So … I guess I’ll just come in.” Abel walked into the dorm room, noticing right away it wasn’t so different than the sparsely decorated room of his childhood. Plain white walls, a small four-drawer dresser and narrow twin beds. He’d grown up sharing space with Eli, but his brother was even more reserved than him.

Lacey had already gone back to hanging up a poster over his bed, featuring a giant pot leaf with the words, Light Up Your Life.
Classic
, Abel thought.

“So, dude, you ready to party?” Lacey said. “I mean I know it’s school land everything, but I was stoked to get away for the summer. I already saw this one girl, she was wearing some weird shit, this costume and sword and I don’t know, but it was hot. Believe me.”

“Oh, um, well I am looking forward to getting to know the other people in the program,” Abel answered diplomatically, setting his suitcase on the empty bed. Rubbing his hand over his chin he tried to think of something else to say. He had nothing.

“That’s cool, man.” Lacey finished taping the corner of the poster and plopped down on the bed. “So in the email from the housing people it said you were from Lancaster.”

“Right.”

“So I googled it cuz I didn’t know that area. And so, you’re like, Amish?”

“Ja, I mean, mostly.”

“That’s cool. I mean, are you pretty straight edge then?” Lacey flipped a cheap plastic lighter in his hand.

“Well, I guess, mostly.”

“Mostly your answer to everything?”

Abel smiled, wanting to let his guard down, especially since he wanted to get along with his roommate.

“I’ve smoked if that’s what you mean,” Abel answered, shaking his head, not quite believing in two minutes flat he’d already gone
there
with his roommate. He had, plenty of times with Joshua, down at the place where they used to party, but he hadn’t in a month or so. Everything changed after things got messy between his sister Bekah and his best friend. He didn’t really want to be apart of that scene anymore.

Especially after he got accepted to the summer program.

Lacey seemed to visibly relax, his shoulders dropped and his grin grew wide. “Sweet, I mean, I like to smoke.” He pointed to his poster. “But I didn’t want to be a jackass either.”

“Amish teenagers are like most teenagers. We’re all just trying to figure it out.”

“So how’d you end up here? Isn’t that like sacrilege?”

“I always really liked school, and when it stopped in eighth grade, I took liberties and kept teaching myself.”

“And you got into this program? It’s hard as hell man.” Lacey whistled. “Damn, self-taught, huh? My parents have been paying tutors for me as long as I can remember, SAT prep courses and all that shit. And you just like, what? Got a book from the library?”

“Something like that,” Abel said, remembering it was exactly that. He read those SAT prep books and used the library computers to find out when the tests were and after he got his results, a librarian’s jaw dropped and she told him about this program.

Abel spent years devouring any reading materials he could get his hands on.  Once accepted in the Jamestown Summer Intensive, and he unashamedly declared his thirst for knowledge, a prideful sentiment not highly regarded in the church, it became clear the bishop needed to be involved.

The only saving grace was that since Abel was eighteen and on Rumspringa, his church sanctioned time to “run around” in the outside world before being baptized, there was little they could do to forbid it.

“Wanna go check this place out?”

              “Sure,” Abel stood, not having unpacked yet. Remembering how he got here, the people he left to do this, he felt ready to seize the moment, to find his place. To not look back. “I’m starving.”

***

Later that evening Abel was exhausted and ready to get to sleep before his orientation the next day. Lacey had mellowed over dinner, and Abel realized he might be as nervous as him, just showing it in a different way. Mostly, as a privileged gangster.

They’d eaten dinner with people Abel couldn’t remember and Lacey had gone off with them, leaving Abel alone. He was grateful. He’d always ended his evening with solitude. He craved the silence that hung over his parents’ farmhouse as he fell on his single bed, exhaling. He had done it. Really, truly done it. He’d thought for sure and certain a reason to stay would force him home. Forcing him to fill delivery trucks or muck stalls when a member of the day crew called in sick.